


Scrapbook

by missdewey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sexual Content, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-29
Updated: 2006-07-29
Packaged: 2018-10-01 02:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10178729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdewey/pseuds/missdewey
Summary: Clips of Draco Malfoy's life, from age 11 to 18.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Scrapbook**

 

At eleven, Draco Malfoy is excited. He is going to school in a few days. His trunk is already packed, waiting for him in the corner of his bedroom.

He has heard that Harry Potter will be coming to school this year, as well. Father says that he should make friends, and Draco feels sure that he can do it. He’s sure that everyone will want to be Potter’s friend, but no one has the advantage that Draco does. He’s rich, after all, and comes from one of the Great Families. Draco has made a lot of friends over the years; it’s easy enough to do, once people know who you are.

He wonders if he and Harry Potter will be Sorted into the same House.

* * *

At twelve, Draco wins the position of Seeker for Slytherin House. He is happier than he can ever remember being. He trains hard every night, and he begs Father to come watch his very first game.

Draco searches for the Snitch. He searches and searches but cannot find it anywhere. He looks to the stands, to see if Father notices his failure...

And suddenly, a blur of colour shoots past him, red and gold and messy black hair. Potter’s seen it. Draco’s heart sinks as he tucks in to pursue. He can’t catch up, Potter’s almost there, and Draco digs in as hard as he can and nearly brushes the tail of Harry’s broom. But it’s too late now, Potter’s caught the Snitch, and Gryffindor has won the game, and Father has just seen him lose for the first time.

Draco tries not to cry as he brings his broom to the ground. The other Houses are cheering madly, and Potter is buried in a pile of red and gold. Draco turns to see Father looking at him. He turns in time to see Father’s disgusted expression. He turns in time to see his Father turn and walk away from him.

* * *

At thirteen, Draco visits home for the holidays. He walks the halls of the Manor and talks to the portraits of his ancestors. They tell him stories of great wars, and stories of the years of Grindelwald’s power. Some, the truly ancient ones, even recall stories passed down from their parents about Salazar Slytherin himself. They tell him he has turned out nicely, and they are proud of his efforts on behalf of Lord Voldemort and Slytherin House. 

Draco doesn’t care much for the war stories. Instead, he asks to hear about Quidditch, about the first leagues and tournaments and about the days when the Snitch was actually a small bird called a Snidget. Few of the portraits are very interested in sports, and he only manages to get one or two stories out of them. Some of his ancestors nod off, while others begin chatting amongst themselves about wars and politics.

That night, Draco eats dinner with his parents. They have filets of veal covered with rich sauce, but what Draco really wants is a hamburger. The Malfoys never serve hamburgers. They serve veal and hare and duck, and they eat dinner in formal robes even when they don’t have company. They dine on fine china with crystal and silver over a table large enough to seat all of the Minister’s staff.

A true Malfoy would never eat something as vulgar as a hamburger.

* * *

At fourteen, Draco picks fights. He doesn’t care much who he’s fighting, just so long as he gets the chance to blacken someone’s eye or bloody their nose. His favourite target is Potter, but when he isn’t available or isn’t biting, anyone will do.

Weasleys are a good choice. Weasleys are always spoiling for a fight.

* * *

At fifteen, Draco makes love for the first time. It isn’t how he’d imagined it. The girl is a pretty bit of a thing, another Slytherin from sixth year. Draco finds it difficult to focus on her when his mind keeps wandering.

They meet a handful of times, but after two months Draco stops coming to her dorm. When she asks him why, he shrugs and tells her that he’s simply not interested anymore. Draco tries to feel bad about it when she runs away in tears, but he can’t seem to conjure up any particular feelings for her.

Draco beds a few other girls, but none of them appeal to him much, either. He begins to wonder if perhaps there is something not quite right with him.

* * *

At sixteen, Draco watches Harry from the corner of his eye. He watches him move, watches him eat, watches him fly. His days are spent stealing surreptitious glances at the Boy He Is Supposed To Hate. The problem is, Draco has come to realize that he doesn’t hate Harry. He doesn’t hate him so much that he can’t even sleep at night.

Draco watches the others, too. The know-it-all Granger and the sad-story Weasel. Draco genuinely hates them. He hates when Harry laughs at something Weasley has said, and he hates the way Granger touches Harry’s hand when she wants his attention. He hates the way they walk down the hall together, heads bent together in a conspiratorial whisper. He hates to see them scribbling notes in class, or taking turns riding Harry’s Firebolt.

There are, in fact, a great many things that Draco hates.

* * *

At seventeen, Draco wakes in the middle of the night. He does this often, waking up in a pool of sweat, sometimes with his hand on his arousal. He remembers his dreams all too clearly: fingers stroking his flesh, throaty whispers in his ear, piercing green eyes and untidy black hair.

Draco can’t imagine what cruel trick of Fate wished him to want Harry. He knows only that he does. Draco wants to kiss Harry Potter so hard that he bruises him. He wants to feel his skin, to feel Harry’s hands upon his own. He wants to tangle his fingers in dark hair; to suck at the perfect line of Harry’s neck; to slide his hand under Harry’s robes and watch the fires of passion burn in beautiful green eyes.

These thoughts and more torment Draco until he can stand it no longer. He strokes himself, whispering Harry’s name, and when he comes he is crying.

* * *

At eighteen, Draco asks Pansy Parkinson to be his wife. It is a match his parents approve of. She is rich and well-bred, and pureblooded, of course. Draco knows that she is secretly in love with a half-blooded Ravenclaw boy, but she cannot tell anyone. He knows this because he paid Millicent Bulstrode to lift her diary from their dorm in seventh year. Pansy doesn’t know that Draco is aware of her affair.

Draco thinks he can learn to be content with Pansy. She is, after all, a beautiful creature. More importantly, she is boyishly built and has short, dark hair. Draco closes his eyes as he kisses her lips. He runs his fingers lightly through that hair, twisting the strands in his fingers. He places his hands on her narrow hips and sighs. Yes, he thinks, this will do just fine.

Pansy accepts.


End file.
